Around the Rosie
by doncellerespire
Summary: The world didn't end, it just hit a bump. With ash raining from the sky and the harvest ruined, everyone's in for a hard winter. The Greene farm doesn't have much left for Beth other than an empty belly. In a city painted in shades of gray, Daryl Dixon takes what work he can get. He's just lucky he isn't starving...but now it's getting colder. Bethyl AU no ZA.


**Hey everyone! I've decided to start another story to work on while I work on By a Thread since sometimes I think just constantly attempting to focus on one 10,000 word chapter at a time makes it difficult to focus on it at all. So I'll be putting these out simultaneously. I don't have a ton to say about this, it's an apocalypse AU but no zombies. **

**This first chapter will be a little anachronistic - it'll continue on in a more linear fashion in the following chapters...I'm just attempting to be artsy. **

**Warnings include bad language, violence, drug use, and scenes of an adult nature later on in the fic (though it's going to be a bit of a slow burn). Also please note: I am stretching science just a little bit to make for a better plot. I hope you all enjoy and I hope to hear back from you! **

**Chapter One - We all Fall **

_Four Weeks Later_

The supermarket was almost as dusty as the sidewalk outside. Beth frowned, glancing between an almost entirely crossed off shopping list, and an almost entirely empty shopping cart. They didn't exactly have much in stock, not there was much of anyone to buy either. She sighed, wearily shoving her cart down aisle after aisle devoid of both people and food.

A couple months ago she would have relished in a moment like this - just her, a cart, and a bunch of empty aisles. A couple months ago she would've been racing up and down the store, clinging to the back of the cart with a brilliant grin. It always felt like she was flying. Her mother used to scold her for it all the time, said she'd break her neck when she finally tipped that cart over, but Beth never listened. Right now though - she was feeling a bit too tried, and she didn't like that tight feeling in her chest when she ran these days.

The fresh fruit and vegetables were long gone, but she'd found a few cans of kidney beans, and a box of pasta. It wouldn't exactly be spaghetti, but she thought the pasta would be a treat. Maggie would be overjoyed for sure.

The barren produce section - a mountain range of empty wooden stands - rose before her. She missed the fruit, it was always so colorful. Now there was nothing left but a slightly shriveled looking bag of apples. She wasn't going to torment herself with the price, gluing her eyes on the one open cash register at the front.

Duncan still had his job at least, though Beth wasn't sure if he counted, his dad owned the store.

"So what's up with you?" Duncan asked with a lopsided smile as she pushed him her cart.

"Not much," Beth laughed, "Am I the only one who's kinda starting to miss classes?"

Duncan shook his head, rolling the beans over the scanner, "Kinda crazy isn't? Couple months ago and I would've been happy watching that place burn to the ground."

"You think they'll open up again soon?" Beth asked, in some weird way she was actually looking forwards to the soothing drone of Mr. Lane's lectures on molecular bonding. If anything she was more worried about finishing school. It was her senior year. She needed to be keeping her grades up until after she'd applied to college.

"Whenever the air clears." Duncan shrugged, scanning the pasta with a cheerful beep, "They'll get their asses sued if they make kids walk a mile to the bus in this shit." He gestured to the gray world outside.

"Yeah I guess so…" Beth frowned, reaching for her purse.

"That'll come to sixteen, thirty three," Duncan said, and she paused, fingers frozen around her wallet.

"What?" She asked, incredulous. That was almost twenty dollars, twenty dollars for sixteen ounces of pasta and a can of beans.

Duncan looked apologetic, he really did, but he just repeated the number, "Sixteen thirty three."

"I only have fifteen…" Beth said helplessly staring between the beans and the pasta, she had a big family. With Patricia, Otis, and Glenn here now too she couldn't afford to bring home anything less, but she couldn't afford this either, and this wasn't much in the first place. The hollow pit in her belly made a pitiful gurgle...it was going to have to be the beans, they needed the protein more than the pasta. "I'll just -" she started, reaching for the box she'd have to put back.

"Wait," Duncan said, glancing towards the back of the store where his dad's office was, "I'll cover you okay?" He gave her a small reassuring smile that for some reason made Beth feel even more ashamed, "Just don't tell my dad."

Beth nodded, "Thank you, so much." She didn't have room for pride anymore, though Hershel Greene would certainly argue, "Don't go telling mine either, alright?"

Duncan laughed, "Deal." Beth handed over her fifteen dollars, "Paper or plastic?"

She glanced at the two lonely items, "I don't think I'll need a bag."

With a thankful smile she gathered up her groceries under one arm, pulled her pale blue bandana over her nose with the other hand, and stepped outside. They'd said the ash was supposed to have stopped falling last week. She glanced at the already softened prints she left on her way in, so far it hadn't.

* * *

_Four Weeks Later_

The ash was falling thick - TV had said something about wind patterns. Daryl just ignored the chill in the air, and the gray dust clinging to his damp bandana. Atlanta had always been gray, he didn't think that this really changed the scenery all that much. It had just settled over everything, blotting out the world in dull monotone.

At least it was quiet - the people who had homes stayed inside on days like this. The noise was what he'd always hated about the city, it's why he'd never let Merle drag him down here for long. Though now he figured he may be here awhile. Suffocating in the city was better than starving in the country, shit even the squirrels were running out of food. Winter was going to finish them off, and he didn't want to go with them.

Leaving the shitty little studio he shared with his brother behind, he pulled back an ash covered canvas, mounted his bike, and let the engine roar to life. He started out slow, the side roads were still coated in a couple inches of gray powder - didn't exactly make for great traction. By the time he'd made his way up onto the main streets he was flying, didn't have to worry much about cars or anything else for that matter.

No one could afford gas these days.

The only people regularly roaming the streets were the ash sweepers and the cops - and the cops had bigger things to worry about than one asshole on a bike. For instance, the rest of the assholes on bikes that he worked with.

They hadn't exactly meant for motorcycles to be a theme, but gas wasn't cheap, and it was easier to clean all the ash out of a small engine than some monstrous Hummer. Not that Hummers had come all that cheap in the first place. He squinted his eyes, trying to ignore the sting of wind and dust - some of the other guys had taken to wearing goggles, he thought they all looked like idiots. Though maybe when the first payout came through he'd invest in a pair of sunglasses, at least they were cheaper than bread these days.

Easing up on the throttle he coasted up to his turn, rumbling down the back alleys of one of Atlanta's industrial parks. A couple months ago the place had been mostly abandoned warehouses. Now the big companies had all but completely pulled out, and the people had moved in. Some two thousand displaced from the midwest; another eight hundred from the country around Atlanta who couldn't afford rent anymore, much less food. And that was just in this park, all crammed into warehouses and factories. It wasn't uncommon to see children playing on the big conveyor belts and machines, wasn't uncommon for children to lose limbs on them either.

A couple people waved as he rolled by and he nodded. He wasn't exactly sure how much he liked that people knew who he was. He was even less sure about how he felt that people wanted to wave at him. He'd never really tried to be friendly with them, not on purpose. He shook his head, world couldn't be like this forever. The skies would clear, and the crops would grow, and he'd just be the redneck asshole in the backwoods again.

He was only here for his brother anyways.

The other guys were there already there, milling around the rumbling cube van. The Gov' would be around somewhere, but Daryl was more concerned with finding Merle. His brother hadn't come home that night, wasn't exactly out of character or anything, but they'd had a big deal last night. He just wanted to make sure Merle had spent the night with a victory bang, not a bullet in his side.

"Baby brother!" The familiar yell came from the loading dock as Daryl nudged the kickstand into place, "You sure took your sweet time!"

Daryl rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond as he stalked over and hauled himself up onto the dock, "Gov around?" He asked as he pulled his black bandana down.

"Nah," Merle slapped him on the shoulder, walking off towards the pallets of boxes, "We've got the reins today." Some of the guys were dragging boxes off towards the truck, but that wasn't their main cargo. The good stuff was huddled in the back, watching everything with nervous eyes.

A child cried. He only hoped they could keep their kid's trap shut on the way.

"Martinez?" Daryl asked.

"Taco muncher's in the back," Merle grunted, before snapping at one of their guys something about 'not being a pussy' and 'getting his back into it'.

"I heard that," the voice came from behind them, "asshole." There was no love lost between Caesar and Merle - the two had a begrudging respect for each other, and that was about as far as it went.

"Don't get your panties in a bunch, Tina," Merle smirked, the brothers stopping to wait for their co-worker to catch up. Luckily Martinez didn't push things any farther, everyone had learned just to ignore Merle's bullshit - racist or otherwise. Merle got testy when you insulted his PR abilities, though it was worse when he was high.

That hadn't been a problem the last month. He wouldn't have the money for drugs till the first payout came - the first big one at least. Drugs had been trickling in and out, along with shipments of other more essential items, but for now the meds were just merchandise. So far their little organization had managed to get by on selling whatever came their way at less than market price - but the big bucks were coming soon.

He glanced at the three or four families waiting near the boxes. It would be nice to get a decent meal for once. Merle was probably thinking it would be nice to get a decent high for once.

"I don't get why there ain't no white people on the boat outta dodge," Merle commented, staring at the crying child coldly.

"You know how lucky we are La Familia agreed to work with us?" Martinez glared at Merle, obviously holding back more colorful statements, "You know how lucky we are they're even paying us for this group?" He shook his head, "It was in the agreement - we get their people out of here first."

Merle had that bitter look on his face he got whenever someone shot down his shit attempts at stirring up trouble with logic. Thirty three years with this asshole, and Daryl still hadn't figured out if he did this shit cause he didn't have a filter, or cause he was bored. Maybe a bit of both.

"You see that lady there," Martinez pointed to a pretty woman in her mid twenties, "That's their _numero uno_'s daughter - hid her up here when the Zetas kept hitting a bit too close to home." Merle just scoffed, "Be polite to them, jackass, or Gov's gonna have our heads."

"Martinez!" Someone yelled, "Gotta call from the boss, needs you up in Midtown!"

Martinez started jogging off. "Hey!" Merle called after them, "The hell you think your goin'! I don't speak a word of -" he trailed off as Martinez disappeared over the edge of the loading dock, his gaze going to the Mexican families, "Spanish."

Daryl sighed, shaking his head at his older brother. Daryl wasn't even sure how he and Merle had ended up in The Governor's inner circle, but lo and behold it had happened. It was hard work, but they could afford a decent roof over their heads now, and maybe heating in the winter. That alone was a lot more than what most of the people in the park had. Legally they weren't even supposed to be here, but the refugee camps were overflowing.

The cover cargo, an abandoned shipment of batteries, was all set to go. Merle was looking lost, so Daryl sighed and stepped in, "_Hola," _he began in broken Spanish, made even less intelligible by his thick southern accent, "_Yo necesito todos personnes…" _he trailed off trying to think of the word, "_En el..._truck…" he finished lamely, gesturing towards the cube van. Then remembering Martinez's comment about who the passengers were, hastily added a, "_Por favor." _Their passengers chuckled, glancing between each other. Daryl held back a scowl, he wasn't that bad was he?

They seemed to get the picture, though Merle was staring at him like he had an extra head, "Where the hell'd you learn Spanish?" he asked.

"School," Daryl grunted, watching as the families shuffled into the van. That kid hadn't stopped crying, his wails echoing eerily off the concrete walls. It was starting to grate against his nerves, but he bit tongue and just watched with a tightened jaw. His parents were yelling at him in rapid fire Spanish, he couldn't pick out a damn word of it, but he got the gist.

Kid didn't want to leave. Daryl shook his head, they were on a schedule.

He strode over, fluidly scooped the little boy into his arms, and carried him off towards the truck. The kid was too stunned to cry or squirm, the parents just looked grateful. He shook his head, setting the boy down amongst the boxes of batteries.

"Thank you_," _the mother said, sincerely. He just nodded, ducking his head and jumping back to the loading dock. It hadn't occurred to him that they probably spoke English, though now he figured that was why they'd been laughing. He scowled so he wouldn't look embarrassed, taking one last glance over the people huddled in the back of a cube van.

"Next stop, Rio!" Merle yelled, and the back door slammed shut.

* * *

_Four Days Later _

She was starting to get a little restless, but all the emergency warnings were telling them to stay indoors unless absolutely necessary. At first it hadn't been too bad, but four days of being cooped up almost twenty four-seven was getting to be a bit much. She still went out in the morning with a bandana over her nose to feed the chickens (who were also getting restless being cooped up, and restless chickens were mean chickens), but it wasn't enough.

With listless boredom she sprawled out on the couch, and started flipping channels - she just wanted something that wasn't the news. They hadn't said anything new in two days, just the same old depressing facts run into the ground over, and over, and over.

At this rate she'd watch TV sermons, and those were practically sacrilegious in her household. Daddy always said that men who expected money in return for faith weren't really faithful at all. That wasn't religion, it was greed.

She sighed, settling on Disney Channel sitcoms. Idly listening to canned laughter she closed her eyes, maybe she'd take a nap. She was bored out of her mind, but at least she didn't have to go school, she could take naps anytime she wanted. Somewhere back in the sitting room she could hear her mother humming, and the soft clack of needles. She must've been knitting again.

Her Daddy was out, he'd been ignoring the TVs warnings, he had a job to do. Everyone's animals were getting sick - he'd had more than one rant over dinner about how these idiots couldn't put their horses in the barn - and he wasn't one to leave those poor animals to suffer. Her mother was getting worried, said he was starting to cough at night.

Shawn was going with him, he always assisted when he was home visiting. It was kind of nice they were gone for a while, she loved her brother, but gosh could he be annoying.

She was vaguely wondering if she should get up and play the piano when the air was forced from her lungs, "Maggie get off!" She protested, struggling to push her sister away.

"Nope," Maggie smiled down at her, "I'm bored." She was home from grad school. It had been a very full house the past few days.

Beth groaned, pushing at her sister, "Why are you so heavy?" Maggie hit her arm, and Beth made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a whimper. Luckily though, she was given reprieve, and Maggie slid off to sit on the floor next to her.

"We should do something."

"There's nothing to do," Beth frowned, glancing back at the Disney Channel.

Maggie was quiet for a moment. "There's a box of brownie mix in the pantry." They met each others eyes, grins pulling at their lips, "First one there gets to lick the bowl!" Maggie shouted suddenly, scrambling to her feet.

"Hey! No fair!" Beth yelled, leaping over the back of the couch and sprinting after her. Their laughter echoed through the house as Beth slid on sock clad feet around the corner, practically dragging Maggie down with her. Their mother's calls to be careful were ignored as they stumbled into the kitchen.

"I win!" Maggie declared, smiling at her deviously.

"Nuh uh! That was totally a tie!" Beth protested.

"Nope it's all mine," Maggie said with a grin, pulling the box out of the pantry. Beth just glared at her, feeling slightly dejected, "Though, I might be persuaded to share." Beth raised her eyebrow, "You want to give me the scoop on this Jimmy boy Annette keeps talking about?"

"Mom!" Beth yelled, "What've you been telling her?" She could swear she heard her mother giggling in the other room. Beth glared at Maggie, and then her gaze fell on the box of brownies "...What do you want to know?"

* * *

_Four Days Later _

Daryl didn't know why he was here. He didn't know why he'd bothered to come all the way up to Atlanta for this shit. Actually he did know, and the reason was Merle, only damn person he was willing to make exceptions for - and that was begrudgingly more often than not. Daryl shook his head, bits of ash wreathing a halo around his head. He coughed.

Bunch of fucking shit.

He didn't think the ash would be much better back home, but at least there he had his own roof over his head. Now it was be crammed into some dinky little warehouse with a hundred people, or sit outside and breath in death. He huffed out a quiet laugh, he shouldn't get so prissy about it, the reason he was sitting out here in the first place was cause he wanted a smoke.

He didn't really know where Merle had gotten off to, probably getting high. Daryl told himself he didn't care.

"You stupid fucking bitch!" The yell echoed off the concrete walls and alleys, the ash not doing much to mute the mans booming voice. Daryl's brow furrowed and he stood, looking for the source of the noise. He told himself he was just curious.

"Hey! Jackass," another voice came, "This ain't bout your marital problems, this 'bout you an' me!"

Daryl slid off the loading dock, and started walking towards the side street the commotion was coming from. His steps left footprints in the ash as it swirled down like snow. They weren't too much farther down the street - A hispanic guy, and the kind of couple that had crawled straight from the trailer parks where Daryl had grown up. There was a little girl clutching the woman's legs, both her and her mother were mousy. Only word that fit them right - thin, and shriveling, with nervous demeanors that made it seem like they'd run if they didn't think the cat would catch them.

At their feet was a spilled bowl of something. The little girl looked like she was about to cry.

"Hey! Hey buddy, I asked you where the hell my family's food went?" The hispanic guy went for trailer trash's collar. The white guy was a lot slower, with thick fingers and sluggish fists. He wasn't even all the way set to punch the other guy when his wife lunged forward with a cry.

"Ed please!"

"What'd I fucking tell you?" Ed snapped, twisting out of the Mexican guy's grasp, and turning his fist on his wife. She whimpered when the hit landed, the girl cried, the Mexican guy looked like he was about to step in, but Daryl got there first.

Didn't say a word, just grabbed the jackass by the shoulder, and punched him hard. Ed's jaw snapped back, and it sounded like he cursed something through a mouth filling with blood. The woman was crying harder, and the girl was down right sobbing as Ed staggered back and Daryl stalked forward. Ferociously he hauled the man up by the collar, and hit him again.

"Ed!" The woman cried, "Ed, please don't hurt him!"

Daryl paused, breathing heavily, trying not to cough as ash pushed into his lungs. The woman was staring at him with pleading eyes. She still loved her husband. He glanced at the drunkard glaring hazily up at him...he got that. Shoving the man to the ground he stepped back, watching warily as the woman fell to her knees next to her husband who was struggling to his feet.

Ed retreated like a kicked dog, family trailing after him. He couldn't help but feel like he'd let his temper get the better of him, now he could only hope Ed's shame wouldn't turn into bruises on his wife's skin.

"You all right, brother?" The hispanic guy asked, Daryl didn't have time to respond.

"You've got a quick punch." Someone commented behind them, and they both turned. The man was tall, really tall, with dark brown hair and a scrap of some shirt or something tied around his face, "He deserved it. That asshole stays not too far down from me," he shook his head sadly, "Wouldn't believe half the things I've heard."

Daryl had a feeling he would.

"My name's Philip." The stranger extended a hand, which Daryl hesitantly took.

"Daryl," he grunted, shaking it briefly before letting his hand fall back to his side.

Philip turned to the other man, "Martinez," he introduced himself.

Philip smiled, "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

* * *

_Zero _

It was all anyone had been talking about at school for the last week: Volcano Day. And if the scientists and their seismographs were to be believed, today was the day. The news had been going back and forth between long distance shots of Yellowstone's caldera; refugee camps on the east coast, and down in southern California and Texas; and an overflowing Mexican border.

The carefully crafted volcano puns didn't seem so funny when she was watching people screaming for the border guards to let them over. The lava wouldn't reach nearly as far as Mexico, the ash wouldn't even be all that bad - but it was hard to be rational when you didn't have a home anymore. She knew there were a few refugee camps up in Atlanta, maybe she and Lacy could go up there and do some relief work.

Lord knew she needed to get her service hours in, she needed to graduate this year after all.

The camera on Yellowstone started to shake, they stopped cutting back and forth. The world's eyes were on Yellowstone as the caldera let out an unearthly groan. She grabbed Maggie's hand.

* * *

_Zero _

"You got the news on, Baby Brother?" Merle's voice came through the phone.

"No," Daryl replied groggily, he had been taking a nap.

"Well you better go quick." Merle laughed, "God's puttin' on a show for us." With that Merle hung up, and Daryl groaned. He knew he'd never hear the end of it if he didn't get his ass out of bed. It took a while of fumbling around in the couch cushions to find the remote, but finally he got the TV on, flipping through stations till he found something with news on it.

They were showing an image of the mountains, the camera shaking. He frowned, glancing down out the caption below, 'Yellowstone' it read. The realization hit him as some demonic growl blared over the speaker's. He wouldn't admit to Merle that it had put chills down his spine. It felt like minutes though it only could have been seconds before the earth tore, and the air roared, and fire and black rolled over the trees.

The camera cut out.

* * *

_Four Weeks Earlier _

"That everything?" Duncan asked, placing the bags up on the counter. Beth nodded, "That'll be twenty dollars."

Beth was making spaghetti tonight, it was her turn to cook. She'd thought about doing something fancy, but Maggie was coming home and spaghetti was her favorite. Handing over the twenty dollar bill she gathered her bags in her hands, and did her best to pretend they weren't heavy. It wasn't a very long walk to her car, she'd make it just fine.

"See ya later, Beth!" Duncan called.

Beth looked over her shoulder as she walked out the door, "Bye, Dunc-" Her words cut off suddenly as she ran into something very solid, her bags spilling from her hands, "Oh shoot!" She said, staggering back, "I'm so sorry!"

The man was looking down at her with bright blue eyes that almost seemed bored, "You wanna watch where you're goin' next time?" he asked, the slightest hint of a growl in the back of his throat.

"Sorry!" Beth apologized again as she dropped down to her knees, scrambling to pick all of her groceries up. Somewhere above her the man made a frustrated noise, and crouched next to her, violently shoving a box of cereal into a bag. She decided not to point out that he'd just crushed the bread, "Thank you," she said sincerely as he handed her a couple refilled bags.

He ran a hand through shaggy brown hair, and grunted. Beth tried not to smile, he certainly had a way with words didn't he?

"My name's Beth." She smiled, "I'd shake your hand, but…" She trailed off, rattling her grocery bags.

He nodded, grunted, and turned back into the store. She shook her head, weird guy.

He had pretty eyes though.

**Woo! Finished this with just enough time to edit it and post it before I have to go writing. I hope you all enjoyed! And I hope to hear what you guys think! Thanks so much for reading! **

**See ya soon!**


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